Listings

Those suffering from Motile Snarcoma (etiology unknown, though it may have something to do with "the compulsive eating of spent paper matches") or Logopetria (speaking produces not words but wooden spheres) need to attend this convention of the makeshift medicos responsible for the season's most fanciful disease guide. Melancholy anatomist Shelley Jackson will be on hand, as will fantasist extraordinaire Jeffrey Ford (who will dilate on either Figurative Synesthesia or Ouroborean Lordosis), Michael Cisco, and others. "Laughter, props, giant microbes, and advanced cases of hypochondria" are promised. Earlier in the week, Lambshead co-editor Jeffrey VanderMeer (Wednesday at 7, KGB, 85 East 4th Street, 212.505.3360) reads from his luscious novel City of Saints and Madmen. PARK

At 7:30, Kips Bay Borders, 576 Second Avenue, 212.685.3938

photo: Yancey Richardson Gallery

Swamp things: Tom Hunter's Reservoir No.1, 2002 (see Thursday).

WILLIAM T. VOLLMANN

The ultra-prolific, 44-year-old Vollmann has written upwards of 8,000 pages' worth of novels (historical, bizarre, or both), stories, and his unique brand of narrative journalism. From the front lines in Sarajevo to the inner reaches of the Taliban, he writes as a man who has seen the horror, yet refuses to condemn it out of hand. Now he talks with New Yorker writer Mark Danner about his new seven-volume study of violence throughout history, Rising Up and Rising Down, in which he asks the hardest question: When is it justified? REIDY

At 7, Angel Orensanz Foundation, 172 Norfolk Street, 718.499.9884

Film

'DUCK, YOU SUCKER'

The most eccentric of Sergio Leone epics has been restored to include the introductory Mao quote, among other outrages. Rod Steiger's Mexican bandito teams with James Coburn's IRA man on the lam, the movie oscillating between third-worldist macho and revolutionary cynicism. Long before the apocalyptic closer, metaphors crash down like boulders—genocidal storm-trooper federalesmassacring crypto Italian partisans. HOBERMAN

Through November 27, Film Forum, 209 West Houston Street, 212.727.8110

'THE TEMPTATIONS OF DR. ANTONIO'

The perfect complement to the Guggenheim's Rosenquist retro, Federico Fellini's hour-long contribution to the 1962 anthology Boccaccio '70 concerns a man who falls in love with Anita Ekberg's billboard image. It's showing with two other anthology pieces—the 1953 A Marriage Agency and the 1968 Toby Dammit, floridly adapted from Edgar Allan Poe. HOBERMAN

At 7 and Saturday at 3, Guggenheim, 1071 Fifth Avenue, 212.423.3500

Music

BRIGHT EYES

With Elliott Smith gone, Bright Eyes, Conor Oberst, now stands as young indie America's greatest singer-songwriter, hands down. Never mind the hype, or the Winona rumors, or the fact that he's drop-dead gorgeous, his lovesick confessions and passionate political statements would still make girls (and quite a few boys) cry even if he were fat and ugly and playing to audiences of under 10 people. With Tilly & the Wall. PHILLIPS

At 9, Knitting Factory Main Space, 74 Leonard Street, 212.219.3006

SATURDAY

NOVEMBER 22

Art

JEREMY BLAKE

Digital color-field painting meets swinging '60s Carnaby Street, and Morris Louis meets lava lamp in Reading Ossie Clark, a melting, morphing DVD projection that's a neo-psychedelic ode to the London designer. It's luscious, slick, and complicated. The posh voice reading fragments of Clark's diaries is Clarissa Dalrymple's. "Autumn Almanac" (from the Kinks) also includes a new digital print and 32 small works on canvas. Says the artist, "I didn't close any doors to try to make it make sense." LEVIN

Through December 20, Feigen Contemporary, 535 West 20th Street, 212.929.0500

MARK LOMBARDI

Long before globalism became a hot issue, this late artist began tracing big constellations, mapping worldwide webs of covert dealings among banks, sheikhs, magnates, CEOs, heads of state, government agencies, and "Sinatra's cousin." "Global Networks," the first retrospective of Lombardi's work, is amazing. It delivers six degrees of separation, corruption, objective paranoia, beauty, and truth. If only he were here now. LEVIN

Through December 18, Drawing Center, 35 Wooster Street, 212.219.2166

Music

'TELL US THE TRUTH TOUR'

The "us" in question isn't just a great contingent of far-lefty rockers including Steve Earle, Billy Bragg, the Nightman (a/k/a Tom Morello), Lester Chambers (of the Chambers Brothers), Jill Sobule, and Boots Riley (the Coup). "Us" also means "all of us out there," and the "truth" is the FCC's recent decision allowing further consolidation of major-media outlets. Bring your favorite "Clear Channel Sucks" apparel. GROSS

At 8, Webster Hall, 125 East 11th Street, 212.3531600

SUNDAY

NOVEMBER 23

Music

PETE ROCK & CL SMOOTH

Once was a time when Pete Rock had no idea where his former partner CL Smooth was. The king-of-soul beat maestro had moved on to top-shelf production projects, but his honey-voiced compadre was M.I.A., reportedly working in a parking lot somewhere. Reunited, though, they'll sound so good, running through hits like "The Creator," "Straighten It Out," and "They Reminisce Over You," which, until recently, could have been their theme song. CARAMANICA

At 9, S.O.B.'s, 204 Varick Street, 212.243.4940

MONDAY

NOVEMBER 24

Theater

'JUVENILIA'

Two college roommates compete to seduce the innocent girl in the dorm room across the hall. If this sounds like standard sitcom material, it probably won't be in the hands of playwright Wendy MacLeod, who's been known since The Water Children and The House of Yes to have a moral shock or two hidden up her dramatic sleeve. David Petrarca directs. FEINGOLD

In previews, opens December 7, Playwrights Horizons, 416 West 42nd Street, 212.279.4200

TUESDAY

NOVEMBER 25

Music

JAY-Z

Pour out a little Armadale for the God MC, as this is likely to be his final bow on a New York stage for some time. His sayonara disc The Black Album isn't the art it could have been, but Jay long ago holed up at the intersection of creativity and commerce. And why should he have to choose? Watching his live show is like reliving every reason you've loved rap music for the past two decades—accomplished enough to last almost two hours, jubilant enough to melt even the most jaded cynic. CARAMANICA